I don’t care. I’ll destroy my shop, burn the whole fucking world if that’s what it takes to keep Claudia safe. To keep the last twelve years of my life from being completely wasted.
“Touch one fucking hair on her head, and I swear I’ll—”
His laughter cuts off my threat. Now the camera points up his nose, at a nest of maggots swarming the rotten flesh inside. “You’ll what, Kate Dark? There is nothing you can do your father hasn’t already done a thousand times worse than you could ever imagine.”
How does he know? I have a very active imagination.
“Besides, I don’t want to hurt her.” He turns his head, takes his time studying his stepdaughter. “Well, not too much. It didn’t hurt the first time, did it, Sweetie?”
Claudia recoils. A fresh wave of tears streams down her waterlogged cheeks. The look on her face, the fear in her eyes, tells me she’d claw her way out of her own skin to get away from him if she could.
“We’ll find out if it hurts the second time.” He glances down at something off screen and seems to study it. “Hmm, that might not work. I’ll have to find some other object to—”
“No!” I lunge forward, phone in hand. It’s a stupid move, but it’s instinct. “Don’t touch her.”
“Oh, I plan to.” He taps the rotting flesh on his lip. A layer peels away. Puss leeches from the wound. “But not for three days.”
Three days?
“That’s how long he’s given you to play our little game. I tried to negotiate for one, but you know your father. You can’t make a deal with the Devil with nothing to offer in return.”
I fight the urge to reach through the phone, snap his neck, rip his head off, and make sure he never comes back. End this now.
For obvious reasons, I can’t reach through the phone. If I had my magick, if I’d chosen to become the dark witch my father wanted me to be, I’d have enough power to put an end to Claudia’s stepfather before one more tear falls.
Then again, none of this would’ve happened had things gone according to Dad’s plan. They hadn’t, and now I don’t have my magick. I can’t help Claudia.
Not yet.
“I’ll be seeing you soon,” I say to the camera phone. To Claudia. To her stepfather, I say, “Harm her in any way, and I’ll make what my father did to you look like mercy.”
“Mercy.” He draws out the word, his chest rattling with the noise. He glances at Claudia, then into the camera. “That’s what she said, did you know? That’s what she cried for…the first time. I had none then. I have less now. And just like then, there’s nothing to stop me.”
Nothing but my father’s clock.
“Tic-Toc, Katie-girl.” He moves toward Claudia, pets her hair when he reaches her. She screams, but it’s muffled. “Tic-Toc.”
The screen goes dark.
“As I mentioned before, what’s your first command?” Dante’s twin asks, not giving me a damn moment to collect myself. I should probably find out his name, but I have other more pressing matters at the moment.
Also, screw him. I don’t need a name. I’ll call him Dick.
“My first command is that you shut the fuck up and let me think.” I pace my shop, run my fingers through my hair.
Fuck the Devil and his game. His stupid timeline. That soul, that man, should be in Hell. Rotting. Suffering. He isn’t, and now it’s Claudia who’s suffering, as if she hasn’t enough already. That’s on me. I made a deal with Dad, then didn’t hold up my end. Why should he hold up his?
“Kate,” Dante says my name with care. With reverence. His hand on my arm stops my pacing.
Something happens when we touch. Something primal. Innate. It’s just like all the soulmate bullshit I’ve ever read about—my soul calls to his, and the universe moves out of the way so we can join as one.
Whatever. I’m the master of my own fate, Fate being the real asshole here. I mean, what kind of Creator would take away the choice of free will and disguise it as true love? Maybe that’s the real evil in the world.
Holding on to that thought for dear life is the only reason I don’t kiss him. Take him and his brother and do so much more.
“What, Dante?” I snap, breaking the spell between us.
He shakes his head, coming out of the same fog. “We’re going to need supplies to do the ritual, and those will take time and money to acquire.”
Time we don’t have.
“Let me and Derion help. We can start collecting the items if you’ll just give us permission.”
Derion, huh? Must be his twin’s name. I prefer Dick.
“Permission?” The word leaves a bad taste in my mouth. “I’m not your fucking master. I don’t own you. I’m not in charge of you. I don’t even want to be.”
“Clearly,” Derion mutters on a snort.
Magick cracks through the air between us like a whip. Derion’s shoulders scrunch to his neck. His back goes rigid.
Shit, I think that was me. Asshole shouldn’t piss off a Dark. He should know better.
“Fuck you,” I spit in his direction. I’m typically more colorful, but given the circumstance…
Derion saunters over to me, all cocky attitude, broad shoulders, and powerful legs. He shoots me a look—part leer, part resentment—as he stares down at me from his six-foot height. The same powerful draw that exists between Dante and me exists with Derion.
Fucking magickal genetics.
I’m theirs. They’re mine. No denying it. Except, denial is something I’ve mastered over the years. It’ll take more than some genetic predisposition for me to give in. This is a contest for me. A game. And I hate to lose.
“That’s the idea, Priestess.” Derion’s breath heats my cheeks. Heats other areas. “Fuck me. And him.”
One hand grabs my hip. The other points to his brother. I consider bitching him out for touching me without permission. I don’t, mostly because I don’t want him to stop. I want him to grab me harder. Claim my mouth with his, then my body.
I lick my lips. He swipes the pad of his thumb across them to catch the moisture. His dimple mocks me when he grins. “Preferably, at the same time.”
Derion leans in close to whisper in my ear. His scent invades my bloodstream. His heat sends a shiver down my spine. Craving and longing pool deep beneath my belly, pulse at the pleasure point between my thighs. It’s all I can do to drag in my next breath.
Maybe giving in wouldn’t be so bad after all. I could use a good orgasm—or three—considering the shit day this is turning out to be.
His lips caress the shell of my ear when he says, “You have no idea how good we’d treat you.”
I don’t, but I want to. Damn him straight to Dad, but I want to.
“What would you get out of it?” I ask, genuinely curious why they’d even want to, and more than a little lust-drunk at the thought of them both at the same time. Probably why my words slur together.
Derion cocks an eyebrow. My face heats when I realize what I said.
“Uh…I mean, besides the obvious? You both already have access to your magick. Clearly, you have your own lives I’m sure you’d be happy to get back to. Probably have zero trouble finding women who throw themselves at your feet.”
Okay, I could’ve left out the last, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Why the hell would you want to subjugate yourself to me?”
“How can she not know?” Derion says to his brother. The sound of disgust and disbelief in his tone pushes me back a step, away from him. From his intoxicating scent, and heat, and presence, and promises.
“She didn’t grow up in our world,” Dante defends, though I’m not sure why he would. He sounds almost sad when he says, “She lost her mother.”
“She didn’t fucking lose her. She killed her.”
My mouth pops open at the cruel way Derion speak about me as if I’m not standing in front of him. Not that there’s an actual way to be tactful when accusing someone of matricide.
“Or she might as we
ll have.” He waves a dismissive hand my direction. “She’s dead because of you.” Derion looks at me, really looks at me for the first time since he walked through my shop door. “Though…” He taps his lower lip. “I suppose that couldn’t be helped. The Wyka were determined to find you. And He was bound to get what He wanted one way or another.”
By He, he means Dad. And, “No. It wasn’t his fault. Dad is responsible for a lot of bad shit, but my mother's death was on me.”
I was the one who summoned the Devil. The one who led the Wardens to our home. The one who ignored her warnings and the price of magick I knew would come due. I traded Mom’s life for another. My cost for vengeance and power.
Right now, I have neither.
Derion chuckles and shakes his head. “Whatever. I don’t really fucking care. I just wanna fuck, do the ritual, and claim the rest of my power. If that means you get to pretend to be in charge, boss me around, tell me what to do? Fine with me. I like a take-charge type of woman.”
Derion doesn’t strike me as the type who lets anyone else take control.
“You need me to gain prestige and power,” I mutter more to myself as the realization sinks in.
How could I be so damn stupid? How could I forget that warlocks need a Priestess before they have standing in our societies, both dark and light? Before they can claim the full right of their magick?
I didn’t forget. I selectively chose not to remember. I don’t want to think about binding them. About how the entire system is screwed up. About how much my biology demands I make like nature and breed.
“I know you think we don’t have free will,” Dante cuts in. The sound of his voice, the inflection in his words, calms me. “We want to be here, Kate.”
He closes the distance between us like a graceful predator. Dante may play at being the reasonable, collected brother. In my experience, it’s always the quiet ones that are the most dangerous.
Dante glances at his brother, then back to me. He brings his hand to my cheek, gently strokes my delicate flesh. My body arches into his, involuntarily. My tits press against his chest. Our thighs touch. My hand goes around his waist. My lips ache to be on him. Anywhere. Everywhere.
One move, less than an inch, and we’d be kissing.
“We want you,” he whispers in the minuscule distance between our mouths.
We are two magnets of the same charge forced together. That force being my father.
My laugh mocks my desire, this entire fucked up situation. I can’t move out of his grip, away from his gravity, fast enough. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
Derion crosses his arms. “You sure about that?”
Yes, I want to shout. Something tells me it isn’t true. Dad found me somehow. Maybe he’s had eyes on me from the moment I turned eighteen. No telling how long these assholes have stalked me.
Something inside my chest squeezes at the thought of Callen, of what Dad or these two might do to him. It isn’t love. I don’t do that emotion anymore. But Callen is good to me. He’s terrific in bed. He’s somewhere I feel safe.
He’s mine. In my own way, I’ve claimed him. Anyone who fucks with what’s mine pays the price.
“You don’t want me. You want magick,” I say with confidence. It’s the only thing I am sure of at this moment. “I can’t give you what you want. I won’t.”
Derion opens his mouth to argue the point but is cut off by a loud beeping noise coming from behind the shop. “What in the hell is that sound?” he says, instead.
My smirk is remorseless. So is the tone of my voice when I say, “I believe that’s the sound of your car being towed. Black Beemer, right?”
Dante’s eyes widen, and Derion’s jaw ticks, probably with annoyance, a split second before they both bolt for the back door.
Finally, they’re gone, even if only for a moment. It’s impossible to think straight with them breathing my same air. I pop a square of fudge into my mouth, followed immediately by another, then plop down at my desk inside my back office.
What the hell am I going to do? I won’t be able to resist these two forever. And Claudia has only three days until—
I don’t want to think about until, and what comes after.
Dad won. The fucking bastard won. I can’t help Claudia without using magick. Raising the dead prick, then making him the jailor of my best friend ensures it. But I don’t have to let him win on his terms. He can win on mine.
I won’t become an Inferi until I know exactly what that means, and I know just the right person to ask.
7
Dad’s blood had done a number on me.
I stumbled from the woods and somehow managed to find my feet. My vision had changed. Colors presented themselves I had no name for. Streaks of black appeared throughout my dark red hair. Static pulled at my skin, at my clothes.
Every step I took felt like wading through an electric river. The currents tugged at me, tried to take me down. But I was a Dark. Darks have never gone down easily.
Closing my eyes, I concentrated on Claudia’s house; my memory of it so real, I swear I could reach out and touch it.
The next time I opened my eyes, I was where I’d imagined. The small cottage-style duplex on the west side of town was quaint. No, quaint was the word someone would use when trying to upsell the property. Rundown was more accurate.
Claudia hadn’t come from money. What little her mother managed to make, her stepfather had spent. Booze. Gambling. Drugs. God knows what else. He hadn’t been her stepdad long. Maybe two years. Long enough for me to watch my vibrant, positive, compassionate best friend close off from the world.
Close off from everyone but me.
The air moved out of my way as I stalked toward the house. Light poles bent, cars rattled, alarms blared, dogs barked. Ozone coated my tongue, lightning crackled from my flesh. The instant I thought about the door opening, it did.
Well, open wasn’t really the right word. Exploded would be more accurate.
Claudia’s stepfather bolted upright from his prone, drunk position on the couch. Dad’s power coursed through me as I closed an invisible hand around his throat, lifted him into the air, and squeezed until his eyes bulged and his face turned a gnarly shade of puce.
I released him a moment before he passed out. He hit the floor with a loud thud. I wanted him awake and alive for every moment of this. The same way Claudia was when he defiled her.
A small, meek whimper almost broke the moment. Claudia’s mother. I can’t imagine what she saw when she looked at me. Never had a chance to ask.
“Get out of here,” I commanded, while her husband writhed in pain on the dirty floor. “Get your daughter from my house. Go somewhere safe.”
She trembled too hard to stand. I wanted to be sympathetic, but the fact my best friend on the entire planet was raped was partly her fault. She was lucky Claudia needed a mother, or she would’ve been next.
The asshole on the floor pushed to hands and knees and retched.
“Go. Now!” My vision flashed red at my words. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. “You don’t want to see what happens next.”
The scent of piss filled my nose when she ran past, then blood when she tripped and cut her hand on a piece of the door. The moment she was gone, the night swallowing her whole, I paid her no more attention. Everything I had was on him.
“You little fucking bitch,” he spat. A string of drool latched onto his stained shirt. “What the hell are you?”
Telling him I was his worst goddamn nightmare felt cliché, though true. I settled for, “I am vengeance.” Okay, fine. That also wasn’t the least cliché thing I could’ve said. Didn’t matter. The words had the desired outcome.
Not words. The unfiltered display of magick. There were rules against revealing what we were to the mundane. But I’d already broken so many, what were a few more?
The front of his jeans darkened, a slow inky pool spilling from his crotch down his leg. His eyes bulged, not as much as whe
n I’d choked him, though. He was starting to get it. I wasn’t another little girl he could manipulate and abuse. Control and dominate. I was the one in charge here. The aggressor. This time, he would be the one to bleed.
“You don’t own her.” I barely recognized the growl of my own voice. I moved my hand. A slice appeared across his cheek.
“She isn’t your property.” Another slash. “You aren’t entitled to her.” Slash. “Not by marriage.” Slash. “Not because you think you’re stronger than her.” Slash. “Not because you see her as weak. She isn’t weak! She’s stronger than you’ll ever know.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks, obscured my vision. I wasn’t sure if this was about Claudia, or me.
I was ready when Dad’s magick surged forward. What I wasn’t prepared for was the pleasure it brought. The intoxicating lure to use more and more, go deeper and deeper into the dark. Replace pain with power. Take a detour on the path to Hell, down the road of no return.
His screams tore through the veil between fantasy and reality, the same way I tore through him. The way the dark magick shredded me. I had no idea who I’d be on the other side of this, but I knew if I gave myself over to my father, I’d never get to find out.
I’d be whoever he told me to be. Whoever the magick made me.
Claudia wouldn’t be the only one to lose her innocence tonight. Not that I’d had much to begin with.
A gurgling noise came from the bloody sack of meat before me, a final rasping draw in the losing fight against death. Awareness—of what I’d done, how far I’d gone—started to filter in. Dad’s magick leached from my veins, poured onto the ground, seeped back to the depths of Hell.
“I presume this is it?” Dad asked. His voice suddenly made everything irreversibly real.
I’d made a deal with him, revealed what I was to a mundane, and tortured and murdered a human. Granted, he was a scum of the earth human who I judged didn’t have the right to live. Still.
My entire life, Wyka had also deemed I didn’t have a right to live.
Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 92
